Phobia
by Hadley Sparrow
Summary: One of House's ducklings is knocked out of commission...
1. House

Cares fly away on the interstate. Thoughts seem to disappear. The highways are the only place that a limp-legged doctor in the back half of his forties can go to avoid the call of clinic duties. He revs the engine of his motorcycle for the simple joy of hearing the masculine rumbling noise. He speeds past the ramp that would logically have taken him to Princeton-Plainsboro, the hospital wherein everything of great importance revolves around how clear his head is, how sharp his brain. The red wheels of the replica Repsol bike spin, propelled by the same adrenaline that courses through the veins of the man. A passing dragonfly changes his train of thought to the flitty, buzzing movement of one of his toadies upon entering the hospital yesterday. She had covered herself head to toe with form-fitting black digs that made her look as if she were late for a poetry reading. She was twitchy all day, making the patients and her colleagues nervous, and getting on his nerves.

This particular immunologist has been on his mind a lot lately, and he feels a tingle of guilt for being upset with her. The reason for her sudden burst of negative energy was less her fault than the death of the only white cheetah at the zoo. A man of about her age had come in the day before with a parasite he picked up while hunting with his father ten years before. The man, spunky and snide, had coughed his HIV positive blood into her eye and mouth, putting her at risk, and not acting very apologetic about it. He had even had the audacity to tell her that he might have changed her life for the better. He claimed to have given her the freedom to do what she wished free of consequence.

She had apparently taken him more seriously than first thought, for when she had come into work the next day she was late, and looked stressed, as if hung-over. But instead of the natural, mopey, thick-headedness of a hangover, she acted surprisingly fidgety, as if bothered by more than just her impending doom. Every move she had made that day, every word she had spoken, had reminded him suspiciously of his college roommate, which had clued him in to what the problem was: his employee had experimented with some of the patient's confiscated crystal Meth. But it was more than that, it seemed. He had watched her jerky movements, and the uncomfortable silence between her and his intensive care specialist. Her metamorphosis from the smart, beautiful, snappy female, and his transmutation from outspoken sycophant to empathetic mime were enough to prove that something had happened between them.

He grows uncomfortable thinking about this, and his initial thought is that they're his underlings. Upon further inspection, however, he realizes that this feeling stems more from the intrinsic thought that this one belongs to him. Even if he never claims her, and continues to dismiss her –like he does so well - she still belongs at his side, attempting to fix him.

Giving in to his challenging Rubik's Cube of a career, he turns off at the next exit, leaning far into the turn. His leg, damaged from an aneurism, threatens to stroke the ground, but he pulls from the turn just in time. He pilots the bike back to the hospital, where his phone rings as soon as he steps off. He glances at the screen, and revels at the sight of the word "Cuddy" flashing across it.

He pulls it to his head, and barks into it "House." The voice of his boss from the other end sends a familiar shiver down his spine.

"You better have a good reason that my ER doesn't have an attending."

He pulls a solid wooden cane from his bike, and locks the engine. He unzips his leather Repsol jacket, throws his backpack over one shoulder, and starts limping toward the hospital.

"He had a wild night with some blood samples last night, and can't be bothered to show himself in daylight hours. He's gotta wait til his fangs retract." He tries. She scoffs at him over the phone.

"House, where are you?" She asks, more straightforward, and clearly not in the mood to be chatty.

He of course, never one to play well with others, has other ideas. "I'm behind your curtains." He whispers in a very shady manner.

From his vantage point just before the door to the clinic, he looks up to see the curtain in her office yanked to one side, and her worried face staring down at him. He waves with his cane.  
"What are you doing down there?" She barks.

He stares up at her. "I thought I'd stand out in the snow for a while. Just long enough to watch a daisy find it's way through the harsh conditions of reality. Then I'll come in and watch Cameron try the same." She scowls at him from three stories up, and he responds with, "Ask a stupid question… Well, you know the rest."

She sighs, and rolls her eyes at him. "Just get in here. Chase thinks he's discovered a cure for … you."

She hangs up on him, not allowing him time to find any snide retort, and he makes his way inside, resolved to ignore everyone until he is safe in his office.


	2. Cuddy

Cuddy turns away from the window, and puts the receiver of her phone back in its dock. She sits at her desk, shaking her head calmly, thoughts of how she could get Greg House to spend more time doing paperwork, and less time coming up with snappy retorts floating across her mind.

As she rifles through the files stacked on her desk searching for something to assign House, she can't help but glance over to the picture of the two of them sitting on the corner of the desk. She usually keeps this particular picture in the desk, but for some reason today she felt compelled to have it out, where hopefully the world wouldn't see it. She rethinks her judgment from earlier that day, and opens a drawer in her desk. She gingerly lifts the photo by the frame, and holds for a moment, studying it for the two hundred fortieth time.

There was sun that day, even though it was the middle of November. She had spent the day with him in Atlantic City, just to get her mind off the hospital. He had insisted she leave it behind that day, telling her that four years with no off time wasn't healthy, and it was the ten-year anniversary of the death of her father. So he had taken her that day down to the coast, in the hope that everything that was affecting her mentally and physically would fade away.

It had been quite a plan, too, and would have worked, had a man not collapsed in the booth next to them in the diner where they ate lunch. The amount of salt in his diet triggered by a certain alcoholic draft had caused his throat to contract, cutting off his air supply. She remembers vividly watching him first realize that he couldn't breathe. She visualizes the look of shock on his face as his lips slowly turned blue, and then purple. She can hear the thump and clatter as he fell to the floor, punctuating something House had been trying to tell her.

He, of course, had leapt to help the man, but Lisa herself had been stayed by something much more powerful. Frozen to her seat, she could do no more than attempt to process the information that House had just confessed to her. She relives the moment now, wishing it had been different. If only they had come in five minutes later, and been seated across the room. He wouldn't have been interrupted in his speech. She reconsiders this last thought, and adds another: he probably wouldn't have been making that speech.

This particular picture, however, had been taken much earlier that day, by a woman on her way to pick up her son, Joel, from his Nanny. She had seen the two doctors sitting on the grass, talking, and had seized the moment to snap a few photos of them on Greg's camera.

There is a knock on her door, and she drops the photo into the drawer and closes it hurriedly. In the next instant, Eric Foreman, a doctor on House's team, is bursting in, not waiting for her response. He walks to her desk quickly, clearly upset about something.

"Can I help you with something?" she asks, not impressed by his display.

"Do you know what House did?" He asks, as if his boss had just run over his dog.

"I'm sure you're going to tell me." She replies, resting her head on her hands.

"He took Chase's side in a Neuro case. Chase! The man couldn't tell his left hemisphere from his left testicle, and House is trusting him over me!" Foreman paces in front of her desk.

Cuddy sighs. "Whatever his decision, I'm sure House has a reason for it. He doesn't take random suggestions and try to make them work, it just wouldn't be House. Probably he thought there was some merit in what Chase suggested." She realizes the hilarity of what she's doing, and asks him forcefully, "And are you in the third grade?"

He shoots her a death glare, and snaps, "Chase got his suggestion from me! We were talking about it before House came in, and now Chase is getting the credit for it!"

"Well, if it was your suggestion House took from Chase, why are you making a stink about House not taking your suggestions? Even if he didn't give you credit, I'm sure House knows where it came from. You should be grateful Cameron's not holding this over you, saying that it's karma."

He looks at her without saying anything, and she instantly knows that this is exactly what has been happening. A few weeks earlier, Foreman had stolen something Dr. Cameron had written, and used it as his own in an article he wrote for a medical journal. Cameron was pretty upset, and apparently wasn't over it yet.

She rolls her eyes, and instructs Foreman to ignore Chase, and to go talk to House if he has further issues. He walks out, much calmer than when he walked in, and heads for House's office.


	3. Foreman

As he walks down the hall, Foreman breathes deeply, and tries not to think about anything of particular importance. As he passes Cameron's office, however, he is surprised to find it in a state of relative disarray. He thinks to himself how this particular colleague, if tetchy at times, was generally very composed, and not the sort to leave a cluttered office. He hesitates, considering taking two more steps to the other side of the next wall where he could ignore this anomaly. Two more steps, and he would be uninvolved. Two more steps, and he could continue to pretend that Cameron meant nothing more to him than a distraction to take House's attention off him. 

He battles with it for more than a moment, but ultimately decides that without Cameron's input, House would be twice as distracted, and four times as cranky. He takes a step backward, and peers through the glass wall into her office. Papers line the floor, and her chair is out of place and knocked over. It is not until this last obscurity is noticed that he realizes that the woman herself is sitting cross-legged with her head in her lap on the floor by her giant window. He steps into the office, and knocks on the doorframe. She doesn't look up at him, but responds to his entrance with a hostile, "Go away."

He raises his eyebrows, ready to give up, and then notices that her shoulders are hunched together in tension.

"Cameron, are you okay?" He asks, genuinely concerned.

The response elicited by his question is a much more furious, much more stressed, "Go away!" that erupts from her like fireworks.

Eric raises his hands, and backs out, ready to leave, when he hears a quiet, "Wait." He steps back inside, curious of what she could want of him. "Don't tell House," she commands, in a tone more pleading than anything else. Her head is still ducked, so he can't read her expression, but her voice quavers a little.

He nods, and responds, "Tell House what?" and leaves, relieved to have been pushed away.


	4. Cameron

As Foreman leaves her office, Allison Cameron breathes a sigh of relief. She lifts her head, and brushes back her hair. The last thing she needs right now is to be bombarded with questions by her boss. She lifts herself from the floor, and rights her chair, gathering things from the floor in an attempt to realign her office. She walks slowly around her desk to the front of her office, closes the door, and draws the blinds, willing the world away. 

Returning to her desk, she pulls a small mirror from the top drawer, and glances at her reflection. She fingers a bruise at the corner of her left eye, and returns to the drawer, breathing calmly. She pulls out a bottle of cover-up, and starts dabbing it onto her face, erasing all indication of the morning's events. She then straightens her clothes, and heads for House's office, ready to play doctor.

As she walks the corridor she can feel every person present staring at her, watching her, reading her thoughts. She can feel their eyes, hear their whispered comments, smell their disgust with her. She pulls her arms close to her chest, and walks with her head lowered. She doesn't need this. She doesn't want them to hate her. She is a good person. She saves lives. Her eyes stay glued to the ground all the way to the elevator, where she looks around her to find that none of them have even noticed her.

She walks into House's office, and takes a seat at the table, ignoring his look of suspicion and snide remark on her tardiness. He starts the differential diagnosis session by describing the symptoms of a disease newly discovered to only define itself in the final stages of decay. Cameron half-listens, her attention caught by the notion that the disease was not identifiable. She considers the general symptoms against how she has been feeling for the past few days. She wonders about her rough cough, and how with all her hacking, nothing has come up yet. She thinks of her migraine headaches, and how they seemed to appear from nowhere, emanating from her left hemisphere. When she thinks of her cold, clammy hands, she stops, and lifts them to her face, looking at her palms as if they were alien. She turns them, glancing at the backs of her hands, and then turns them again, to stare at her palms. One of her fingers twitches.

"Isn't that right, Dr. Cameron?" She hears. She blinks her thoughts away, and looks up at House, who is looming over her.

"I'm sorry, what?" She asks, realizing that he has been talking at her for some time now. He looks at the boys, and her gaze follows. Foreman is frowning, and shaking his head at her, but Chase, albeit disappointed, seems more concerned. She looks back at House, whose expression hasn't changed: he still expects her to answer the question. She hesitates for a moment, then responds, "Uhm, yeah, I guess so."

He raises his eyebrows at her, and limps over to the whiteboard. "Really?" he asks, "Tryptophan is an intravenous drug? I always thought you could only catch it from your thanksgiving dinner." She looks away, embarrassed. He continues, writing "Insomnia" on the whiteboard under "Possible Causes." He then writes, "inject tryptophan" under "Possible Treatments," and turns to look at her, entertained.

"Foreman, get him in the MRI, and Chase, find me something chocolate while Dr. Cameron here tries to find injectable tryptophan. We're gonna find out what makes him tick." Foreman gets up and starts to gather his notes, and Chase gives House a confused look.

"Chocolate?" He asks, clearly lost. "How will that help us get him to sleep?" House rolls his eyes.

"It's not for him, it's for me. I'm going to go offer it to Cuddy, and laugh as she eats it, just to freak her out." Chase sighs, and leaves Cameron and House in his office. House sits on the corner of his desk, and starts playing with his giant tennis ball, tossing it up with his cane, flipping the cane, and catching it again. Cameron sits at his table, and watches him for a minute, then lets her head fall, cradling it in her crossed arms on the table.

Chase returns, and hands a bar of chocolate to House, who tells him to go assist Foreman. As soon as Chase is gone, House puts the ball down, and walks over to stand next to Cameron. He opens the confection, sets it on the table next to her head, and seats himself at the table around the corner from her. She looks up at him, and then replaces her head. He stares at her, trying to find what afflicts her in that matrix mind of his, and asks, "What, you don't like chocolate?"

She reaches out a hand without lifting her head, and grabs the bar, pulling it across the table. She lifts her head, and takes a bite, giving an "I don't want to be here" look to the opposite wall. He continues to stare at her, watching in a seemingly contented way. Finally, after two more bites, she has to look at him, and when she does it threatens to bring tears to her eyes. She fights the urge, looking away.

He doesn't say anything, simply watches her. She can only wonder what he must be thinking. He must be thinking of how irresponsible she is, answering without knowing the question. Yeah, that sounds like him. He's probably thinking about how he doesn't want someone that isn't going to care enough about the patient to pay attention in differential sessions working with him, and he should just fire her now. That would be better for everybody. That's probably what he has in mind anyway. He's probably waiting for just the right moment to say-

"Are you okay?" He interrupts her thought. She looks back at him, amazed that he's noticed, and surprised at his compassion. She nods her head silently, wondering what his tactic is. Why would he ask her this just before he fires her?

"I'm fine," she half whispers, not even believing herself. The lie threatens to betray her, making her nervous. She lifts the candy bar, and watches her hand start to shake uncontrollably. She quickly drops the chocolate, and stashes her hands in her lap to make them stop shaking. This new development worries House, who watches this, frowning.

"Cameron." He says, commanding her attention. "Give me your hand." He holds a hand out for her to take. Instead, she stands.

"I'm fine." She responds, more forcefully. She walks to the front of his office, and looks out the glass that separates the hall from the office. She crosses her arms to stop them from shaking, but it doesn't work.

House stands, and walks to his desk. He picks up the phone, and dials, watching Cameron the whole time.

"I need a favor from you." He says into the receiver. "I need you to-" Cameron's ears start to ring, and she lifts her hands to stop them. Her head reels, and her shaking hands only make her dizzy. She puts out a hand to steady herself on the table, but her arm doesn't respond, and she misses completely. Shrouded in vertigo, her knees give out, and she goes down. Her head ricochets off the table, knocking her out.


	5. Disaster

As he watches Cameron's head bounce off his conference table, House's eyes widen, and he barks into the phone. "I need you to get me some help down here, Cameron just passed out." He throws the phone down, not waiting for an answer, and rushes to Cameron, not bothering to use his cane, but supporting himself on the table instead. 

He falls to his knees, and crawls over to her, lifting her head into his lap to feel for blood. He pulls his hand away dry, and brushes her hair off her face.

"Cameron," he calls, trying to awaken her. "Cameron, come on. Don't you do this. Allison!" His voice echoes into the hall where it reaches Cuddy and the team of nurses she's brought to help. As they enter they bring a stretcher, which they immediately lower to put Cameron on. Cuddy stands speechless in the doorway, watching House give them directions to take Cameron to the ER and put her on an IV and antidepressants. He finishes with, "I want an MRI and an Ultrasound as soon as she's stable."

He struggles to his feet, and looks up at Cuddy as they remove Cameron. She walks to his desk and brings him his cane, on the cusp of words that haven't quite come yet. He takes his cane from her, and asks, "Are you going to say something, or are you just going to imitate a Venus Fly Trap for a while? I do have things to do you know, my Immunologist is in the ER." She stares at him, trying to figure him out.

"Did you do this?" She asks, still watching him closely. She doesn't truly believe he had anything to do with it, but still she must ask.

"Yeah," he replies cynically, "I don't know what happened. One minute I was smacking her around, and the next minute she was on the floor. What do you think, Cuddy?" He starts walking toward the door, but she stops him with a word.

"Greg," She starts. He pauses, but only briefly. Long enough for them to exchange a heated glance, and for him to lose his steam. He sighs, and lets his face reveal to her how worried he really is. Then he turns from her, and hobbles toward the same elevator that just whisked away Cameron. He pushes the button, and stands back, leaning on the cane, and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger until the elevator dings.

As he steps into the elevator he is joined by Cuddy, who hugs a small stack of charts. She stands about a foot away from him, watching his face. He stands calmly with his hands and cane in front of him, and watches the numbers above the door tick down.

"What happened?" she asks softly, and he glances down at her. "And why the anti-depressants?"

"I don't know," He returns, "and because I have a feeling they might help." He looks at her again, and she back at him, confused. "Before she fainted she was sitting in a differential diagnosis, completely distracted. I kept her after to talk to her, and she wasn't talking. I wanted you to try to talk to her, figure her out, since you two are both women, and let's face it; I'm just not, no matter how often I wear my sparkly pink stilettos. She got up to leave, I guess, and just completely fell over. Didn't even try to save herself." She watches him, mouth agape, for the whole speech.

Still confused, Cuddy asks, "Where are you going now?" The elevator stops on the ground floor, House holds up a half-eaten chocolate bar, and starts walking toward the ER.

"I'm bringing her this, and I'm her doctor." Cuddy catches his arm, and he turns to look at her.

"House," she says, taking the confection from him, "I'm her doctor. I've always been her doctor." He looks at her stunned, and relinquishes his quest. She rushes off to follow Cameron into the ER, and House takes a seat on one of the benches in the hall. He breathes slowly, with his head resting against his cane. After a few seconds he stands, and heads for the MRI to find Chase and Foreman.


	6. The Boys

Chase and Foreman sit behind the glass that separates the MRI from the computers that assess the data it retrieves. Foreman fiddles with a few switches, and Chase tells the patient in the MRI to stop fidgeting. They don't sit in silence for long before Chase's curiosity overcomes him. He turns off the microphone, and turns to Foreman.

"What do you think was up with Cameron?" He asks, catching his colleague's attention. Foreman shoots him a glance, then goes back to the machines.

"I don't know. But I walked by her office on the way to House's, and it was a mess. Everything was out of place, including Cameron. She was sitting in a little ball on the floor. Something is definitely up. And get this. She told me not to tell House." Chase raises his eyebrows in surprise.

At that moment, House limps in, and leans against the wall. The boys look up at him, and give him questioning looks. Foreman returns to what he was doing, but Chase continues to stare at House until House's death stare makes him nervous, and he has to be inquisitive.

"House, what are you doing here? And where's Cameron?" House looks away, an unnatural and very concerning gesture on House. "House?" Chase asks, dropping all thoughts of the patient. This second mention of the attending's name turns Foreman toward a worried Chase, and then around to watch House, who lifts himself from the wall, and starts to exit the room. Chase and Foreman exchange glances, and Chase stands and follows House into the hall. House continues to walk, and Chase calls out.

"House!" He is almost yelling. "What's going on?" House turns to face him, and his face shows nothing.

"Go back to your patient." He responds. "You're a doctor. You can't afford to leave an MRI in session." With that he turns back to the hall he came from, and heads for the ER. Chase turns back, confused, and re-enters the room where Foreman is going through the motions of turning off the MRI.

"That was weird." Chase tells him. "He completely evaded my questions." Foreman shakes his head.

"That's not weird for House, he does that all the time."

"No," Chase counters, "I mean completely evaded them. Didn't even make up a story or anything, he just walked away." Foreman looks confused, but doesn't mention anything. He finishes up with the shutdown, and stands to leave.

"Get him back in his bed," He tells Chase, and takes the patient's charts. "I'm gonna go see House." He walks down the hall, thinking not about the patient, but about the absence of Cameron. When he reaches House's office, he looks in to find nobody there. So he continues down the hall to Cuddy's office. Also deserted. Surprised and confused, he returns to the patient's room, where Chase is hooking the man back up to his machines.

"I can't find anyone." He confesses. Chase gives him a look. "House and Cuddy aren't where they should be." Chase frowns.

"Did you try the ICU?" he asks.

"Why would House be in the ICU? He hates clinic duty, and he doesn't like to treat patients." Chase shrugs, and they exit the room.

"It's worth a shot." He says. "Why don't you try paging him? I'll check the ICU." Foreman nods, and they split up.


	7. Abuse

In her room in the ICU on the ground floor, Cuddy hovers over Cameron, not daring to leave her for more than an instant at a time. The poor condition of one of her own staff worries her, but not as much as that of her best friend. Nevertheless, she commands the orderlies with professional grace, and doesn't permit herself to think of Cameron as Cameron, for fear of an inability to act. Instead she monitors the other woman's vitals closely, as if any change at all could send the world off its axis. Her creeping heart rate troubles Cuddy.

As she and the nurses run the basic tests, she considers House's suggestion of antidepressants, and decides against it. The serotonin in the drugs would keep Cameron unconscious longer, and consciousness is optimum at this point. She goes to the nearest drawer, and removes a set of smelling salts, breaking one under Cameron's nose. She wakes with a start, and looks around. Cuddy can't help thinking of her as a friend, and brushes her hair back, speaking in a soothing tone.

"Hey, Ally. Calm down, you're okay." Tears come to her eyes as she lies to her friend. Cameron shuts her eyes and breathes deeply, then opens them again to look up at Cuddy.

"What happened?" she asks, "How did I get here?" Cuddy sniffs.

"What do you mean? Don't you remember?" Cameron shakes her head, frowning.

"Al," Cuddy starts, "You were with House. He says you were having trouble focusing, and then you blacked out… You hit your head on his table." Cameron nods, thinking.

"Yeah," She looks up at Cuddy. "I remember my ears were driving my crazy. Do you think I concussed?" Cuddy shakes her head slowly.

"Unless you're having symptoms that we don't know about, there's no real basis for-" Cameron cuts her off.

"Dizziness, headache, ears ringing, blurred vision, loss of balance, concentration loss," She indicates the heart rate monitor. "And slowed pulse. Lis, it's pretty much screaming concussion." Cuddy reels at the confession of symptoms.

"Allison! Why did you even come to work today?" She thinks a little more. "But still, I don't think so. Concentration loss and slow pulse are later signs of concussion, and you only hit your head about a half-hour ago. You couldn't possibly be showing those signs already." Cameron turns her head away to avoid meeting Cuddy's eyes, but only succeeds in turning her poorly concealed bruise toward her friend. Cuddy sees right through the cover-up, however, and reaches a hand to Cameron's temple. As her fingers lightly brush her head, Cameron pulls away in pain, and then looks at Cuddy, who stares back at her stunned.

"Wha…" Cuddy pulls her hand back and looks at her fingers, then looks to Cameron, who has a hurt, worried look on her face. "Allison, what happened?"

Cameron turns away again, stubborn as ever. "I don't know what you're talking about." Cuddy is insulted that a friend so close would lie to her, but she is more concerned with the bruise on the side of her head.

"Ally," she starts. Cameron looks back at her, tears welling. "What happened? Please tell me. I want to know what's happening to you." The begging pushes Cameron over the edge, and she breaks.

"I don't know!" she bawls. "I met this guy, and things were going great, and then…" She trails off into sobs, and Cuddy moves to embrace her. The story shocks her, and she gives Cameron a squeeze.

"Did he do this to you?" No answer. Cuddy pulls back to look at her face. "Al?" Cameron wipes her eyes, and ducks her head. Cuddy gasps. "Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anyone? Allison, that's abuse! You could get him arrested for that!" Cameron looks up with eyes wide.

"No, Lis, I don't want that! He's really not that bad! And he always apologizes, and says he doesn't mean it!"

"This has happened more than once? Ally, you have to let me help you! Why did you even start seeing him in the first place? What's his name?" The barrage of questions stresses Cameron, who puts up her hands in defense. They still shake, but not quite as violently now. Cuddy takes one, and examines it, then releases it. Cameron puts it in her lap, and closes her eyes. Cuddy gathers her into her arms, and hugs her, comforts her. Neither of them speak. After a few seconds, Cameron lifts a shaking arm to loop around Cuddy.

"Don't worry, Al," Cuddy whispers. "I'm here for you. And I'm not going to let this happen again."


	8. Phobias

House chooses that moment to walk in, failing to knock, or even announce his presence with a greeting.

"For the last time, Cuddy, I didn't really hit her! I was only saying that to make you realize how ridiculous it was!" Cuddy releases Cameron, and walks over to House.

"What are you doing here, House? And stop saying that, it isn't funny." House makes a face at her, and hobbles over to Cameron. When he stops next to her bed to stare at her, she leans away from him, frightened. She throws a panicked look across the room at Cuddy, who exchanges confused glances with House. House steps toward Cameron, who whines a little, and leans farther away from him. Cuddy moves to stop him.

"House, stop it! You're terrifying her!" She pushes him away, and places herself between them. He stumbles backward a few feet before catching himself and standing normally. He frowns, concerned.

"She's afraid of me? What happened to cause that? She passes out in my office, and all of a sudden she's androphobic? That doesn't make any sense." Cameron does her best to hide behind Cuddy, who notices, and takes House by the arm.

"I think it's time for you to go now." He struggles, and protests, but she wins. She always wins. "I'll figure it out," she tells him. As he finally leaves, Cameron breathes a sigh of relief, and Cuddy turns back to her. "What was that?" she asks, concerned. Cameron shrugs, and shakes her head.

"I don't think he's safe to be around. He looks a little sketchy to me." Cuddy's mouth falls open.

"Sure, but he was right." Cameron looks at her confused. "You're androphobic. I guess the trauma of what you've been through…" She trails off into thought, pacing. Cameron breaks her train of thought.

"Why didn't you tell him?" Cuddy looks up at her, and sighs.

"It wasn't my place to tell him. If you want him to know, you'll tell him." She sits on the side of the bed. "And I don't need him storming around here."

A knock sounds on the door, and it opens to reveal Chase, who looks in, worried. Cameron tenses, and Cuddy glances at her before getting up to talk to him. He steps in, and closes the door. She walks over to him, keeping him as far away from Cameron as indiscreetly as possible.

"What's going on?" he asks innocently. "What happened? Why is Cameron in the bed?" Cuddy shushes him so she can respond.

"She passed out in House's office about an hour ago, and hit her head on the table. We think she has a concussion." He tries to step around Cuddy, but she puts a hand on his chest. "And she's androphobic." He gives her a confused look.

"Why? House didn't do anything to her, did he?" Cuddy shakes her head.

"It's random, I know, but you being here will only upset her. You should really go." She pushes him again, and reaches around him to the door handle. As soon as she does, he steps around her, moving quickly to Cameron's side. He kneels, and takes one of her hands. Cuddy waits for her to move away from him, but she doesn't.

"Cameron." He begins, "Are you alright? I'm so sorry. I had no idea. If I'd have known I never would've-" she puts a hand to his lips.

"Don't." She says simply. Cuddy looks at her as if she was insane, and then comes over.

"Ally, you're not afraid of Chase?" She asks. Cameron considers this for a moment, and then shakes her head.

"I guess not." Chase grins, and moves closer to her. Cuddy laughs.

"Because he's not overly manly?" Cameron grins.

"I guess." Chase frowns at them, but then returns his attention to Cameron.

"Is there anything I can do?" He asks earnestly. She shakes her head, unable to think of anything. He reaches up to touch her face, and she flinches. He tries to place a hand on hers, but she removes hers, and holds it in her other hand, frowning at Cuddy. He also frowns, and looks at Cuddy, who grabs his shoulders, and pulls him to his feet.

"Thanks for stopping by!" She says, as she throws him out. She turns, and leans on the door, grinning at Cameron. "Dear God, he's a doorstop that eats!" Cameron looks worriedly at her.

"Why couldn't you let him touch you?" She asks softly, starting to worry again. "You weren't afraid of him… but he couldn't touch you."

Cameron looks down, and mumbles, "Well, you remember the other day, when I got blood coughed into my eye?" Cuddy nods, and moves to her side. "Well, I stole some of the patients Meth from the lab, and used it to get high." Cuddy's eyes widen in shock.

"Allison Elizabeth Cameron!" she exclaims, mortified. Cameron looks at her out of the corners of her eyes. "That's not all?" she asks. Cameron shakes her head, and Cuddy sits in the chair in the corner of the room.

"I was completely out of my mind. And I called Chase over…"Cuddy looks away, ashamed. "He was way more aggressive than I would ever have imagined. Or, I think he was. I don't really remember."

"Oh, God, Allison." Cuddy groans. Cameron bows her head further into her chest, and leans forward, hiding her tears. "Are you alright?" Cuddy asks, more concerned than ever. Cameron gives her head a slight shake, and Cuddy almost smacks herself. Of course she's not alright, the poor girl, she's agraphobic now too! Her mind reels at the thought of developing two possibly related phobias in the same day. She stands, and approaches her friend, unsure of how to handle the situation. She places a hand on Cameron's back, and Cameron trembles, attempting –but failing- to hide her tears. She hugs Cuddy.

"Thanks, Lis. I'm so sorry. Thank you for listening, and for caring." Cuddy smiles, and comforts Cameron.

"Sweetheart, that's what I'm here for." She pulls away, smiles at Cameron, and brushes her hair behind her ear. "Now, I have to go talk to House, and I don't think I want him in here again." She stands, and kisses Cameron's forehead. "You rest. And try not to think about that boy of yours. Or House. Or Chase… Just try to sleep, okay?" Cameron laughs, and nods as Cuddy exits.

She sinks down in her bed, preparing to sleep. Not quite comfortable on her back, she turns onto her side, and that's when she sees it: the chocolate that House gave her. It's sitting on the bedside table, a testament to the fact that he doesn't truly want to hurt her. She knows this, of course, it's a ridiculous fear, but she can't change what is. Still, she grins at the sight of the talisman, and closes her eyes to sleep.


	9. Confessions

House sits in his office, outwardly playing with one of his giant tennis balls, but inwardly dying. How could one of his own staff fear him? Sure, he could be abrasive and judgmental at times, but he would never do anything to physically hurt any of them. He was relatively certain she knew that. He had thought they all knew that. Her phobia was completely unfounded, and truthfully it hurt him, but he wouldn't let on to anyone.

They all feared him in some respect, but she was the only one who didn't hate him. No, she was the one who was in love with him, and while it annoyed him to no end, he did enjoy it, and now that it was gone it was that much more difficult to live with himself.

Cuddy knocks on the doorframe, standing in the doorway with a set of charts in her arms. He looks up at her, and misses the catch: the ball hits him in the cheek. She comes in, and sets the charts lightly on his desk. He nods at them, then looks up at her, curious.

"It's Cameron's." She concedes. "She has a concussion, and she's started to develop phobias." He frowns.

"You mean it's more than Houseaphobia? Was she afraid of Chase or something?" Cuddy shakes her head.

"She wasn't afraid of him as a man, but she feared his touch. Agraphobia. She doesn't want him to abuse her." House is shocked by this development.

"Of all the men to fear sexual abuse from, Chase is... not even on the list. So she's not Houseaphobic?" he asks, excited though he won't show it. Cuddy shakes her head slowly in confusion.

"I don't really know. And stop calling it that. I think I'll send Foreman in to find out." She loiters for a minute, and her looks at her.

"Something on your mind, Cuddy? Or you just so in love with me you can't stand to let me out of your sight? This'll get fun when I have to go to the bathroom." She inhales, and starts tentatively.

"Cameron…" Her mention of the other woman's name catches his attention, and his eyes grow more focused. She falls at the way he lights up, and continues. "Cameron is showing signs of trauma because she's getting abused." He frowns at this, and starts his rant again.

"Now, I've told you twice already, Cuddy, I'm not hitting her! I would never really-"

"I know." She cuts him off. "Not by you. I know." His expression of annoyance transforms to concern. "By a man she's seeing." His eyes widen in shock. "She was showing signs of major concussion. She diagnosed herself, and when I questioned the time frame of her reaction to her head injury, she fell apart. She told me about this guy who's been abusing her. She said he'd-" He stops her.

"I don't want to know." He gets up, and starts toward the door, stopping about two inches from Cuddy's face. His eyes meet hers, and she holds her breath. Her eyes fall to his lips, and close, and when she raises them again, he is gone, having ducked around her. She watches the inside of his office for a moment, and sighs. She hurries down the hall after him.


	10. The Protector

"Where are you going?" She asks, walking quickly to keep up with his determined stride. He doesn't pause but continues to Cameron's office, bursting in, and heading straight for her desk. "House!" Cuddy demands, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to Cameron's." He opens her desk drawer, and pulls out the key to her apartment, leaving the drawer open as he heads back toward the door. Cuddy stands firm in the doorway, not allowing him to leave.

"First of all, it's scary that you know where she keeps those. And secondly, I'm not going to let you do that. You can't just go breaking into people's homes!" He looms over her.

"Cuddy, move." She shakes her head, placing one hand on each side of the doorframe. He moves closer, trying to stare her down. "Cuddy," he starts, leaning in imposingly. She closes her eyes, and cringes.

"House, no!" she yells at him, surprising him. He backs off, shocked that she is so frightened of him. She opens one eye, sees that he's stopped, and straightens. "I'm not going to let you invade her privacy like that. She has a right to privacy just like anybody else." He eyes her, suspiciously.

"What are you protecting?" he asks.

"What are you talking about?" she counters. "I don't have to be protecting anything to tell you not to break laws. You can't just ignore them like you do Hospital rules! It's not the same system. If you get caught, you get put in jail, and I can't help you with that, I'm not above the law you know, and is that really what you want?" He stares at her through the whole speech. "What?" She finally explodes.

"You're hiding something. You're babbling. It's a dead giveaway." He steps toward her again, and she almost backs away, but then remembers what she is standing for. He grins a bit. "Thought I had you there." She frowns at him. "Come on, Cuddy," he sighs, "Do I have to physically move you?" She gives him a worried look, and he makes a move toward her just to watch her flinch. Seeing her determination, he decides it must be of some importance to her, and relaxes his shoulders. He walks back over to Cameron's desk, and replaces the keys, then returns to Cuddy who stands down for him to pass.

As she watches him walk down the hall, she tells him, "And don't go try to find a hidden key, either!"

House walks back to his own office, and sits at his desk, opening Cameron's charts to get her home phone number. He dials with swift precision, and waits.

The phone rings. He breathes to slow his heart. It rings again. Working like the wing beats of a hummingbird, each stroke invisible yet vital, his mind determines the best course of action. A third ring, and no answer. As the machine picks up, he speaks calmly into the receiver.

"This message is for Alison Cameron," he spews gracefully. "This is the-" A click from the other end, and a grumbly voice mumbles from the other end.

"'Ello? Yeh, I'm here. Wha'?" Stunned by the youth of the voice, and by its thick Manchester accent, House almost drops the phone, but at the last second recovers.

"Yes, is Alison Cameron there?" he asks.

"No, she's not. She's at work right now. Can I take a message?" House rolls his eyes, thinking about how this man is less useful than an answering machine.

"Yes, you can." He says, overly cheery. "Can you please tell her that Princeton-Plainsboro called with her pregnancy test results?" The silence tells him exactly what he wants to know. The man stutters unintelligible syllables for a moment, and then spurts:

"Well, what are they?" He asks, flustered. House grins to himself.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I can't disclose that over the phone. But if you come in I can see that you get what you're looking for." The man is audibly relieved.

"Ok, I'll do that right away." The phone clicks, and House sets down his receiver. He stands to leave, and looks up to see Cuddy standing once again in his doorway, mouth agape. He grins at her. "Cuddy, if you don't stop following me, I'm going to tell hospital security that you're stalking me." She gives him a look that could prick a porcupine.

"Are you out of you mind?" She asks, to which he gives a thoughtful expression. "You can't have him come here! You can't let him see her! Is this some sort of sick game to you?" House shakes his head.

"Of course not!" He limps toward the door. "And he won't even know she's here."

She lets him pass unopposed, watching his left hand as he turns to walk toward the elevator. He pushes the call button with his cane, and turns to look at her. She matches his gaze for a moment, considering all the objects in the world small enough to possibly fit in his clenched fist. Distracted, she clenches and relaxes her own hand to test its size. It is quite possible that he clutches his Vicodin bottle, or even a few loose pills. She looks down at her fist, and when she turns back to him he has disappeared. She hesitates a moment, and watches the lighted numbers above the door drop to the first floor instead of climbing to the third.

Surprised that he isn't headed back for Cameron, she returns to her own office to contemplate the ailments of her friend.


	11. Assault

She is standing in a dark room, unable to see even her own fingertips as she waggles them in front of her face. She stands not alone, yet there is no one with her. She can feel all around her the reassuring calm of a familiar presence, but knows there is nothing; there is only emptiness. In the complete blank there are two pinpricks of white light. She squints her eye, watching them, longing to see more. Denied. A tickled touch dances across her skin, up her arm. She shivers. Skin on skin, delicate fingertips dance gracefully across her clavicle, and down across her sternum to hover over her navel. She is entirely bare. A palm is thrust into her navel; she staggers under the pressure.

The warmth is wonderful, and it slides from the center of her belly to her waist, and is soon joined by its mate. Fingers sift through her hair, and knuckles are drug across her cheek. A palm is placed between her shoulder blades. The thumbs at her waist move in small concentric circles, and the palms slide down past her hips to the backs of her lower thighs. Her cheek is cupped, and her hair continually stroked. Fingers wrap around her ankle, taking her by surprise.

The bridge of her nose is stroked, and she impulsively closes her eyes. Her mouth hangs open just enough to release her panted breath. A hand suddenly on her breast makes her pull back, her eyes snapping open to the darkness. The further she retreats from the hands the more forceful they become, increasing contact for every withdrawal. More hands grasp at her, covering her, pulling at her. She twitches and shivers, trying to remove them, but they only become more obstinate. The hand on her face moves steadily down her neck. She attempts to bat it away, but her arms are restrained by the unseen pawing. Ever so slowly and gently, the grip of the hand increases around her throat, constricting to suffocate her. She chokes, and sucks in air as the sensation of the other hands fades, leaving her naked with blood of lead coursing her veins. As all other feelings subside, her vision returns, starting around the two spots of light, and expanding to encompass an aggressive face, grinning vilely. Even with the increased light, all she sees is him: his arms choking her. His teeth laughing. His eyes, Atlantic blue, and every bit as cold. His eyes, bearing down on her. His eyes, killing her.

She squeezes her eyes shut against his presence, and all sensation subsides. She swallows. She inhales. The cooling liquid feeling flows over her tongue into her lungs, and she breathes deeply, her eyes snapping open in surprise. His eyes are still there. She instinctively reaches for her throat. There are no hands around it, nor does it lead to her bare chest, but it is the cold, slick wet of skin drenched in sweat. She lifts her hand, and draws her thumb across the tips of her fingers, watching as it slides freely, enjoying the sensation of being motile.

Her eyes return to those across the room, and her relief is visible. The man matching her gaze also shows signs of relief, but his expression quickly hardens, and he averts his eyes. His attention is turned once again to the bottle of pills spilled across the table he is sitting next to. He is separating the tablets into groups of four, but when he sees her awake he pushes them all together, and starts to draw out groups of five.

Her eyes scan the room, searching for that one traitorous flaw that will betray that she is still in the nightmare. She doesn't find it, but she does happen across the chocolate given to her earlier in the day, and sitting beside it a 100mg injection bottle with a label her eyes couldn't immediately focus on. She reaches for it, and lifts it to her face to read "Haloperidol" splayed across the label. She frowns, and looks questioningly at the man across the room.

"The 'Man of La Manchester' is on his way in. Somebody told him something about a pregnancy. I guess he's a circus freak, or something." She rolls the bottle in her hand, enjoying the cold of the glass against her skin. Her voice is rusty from disuse, but she manages a word in spite of the coarse sound.

"Beckett?" she asks, confused. His hands stop, and he looks up at her.

"Is that his name? Huh. I would've expected something like Humphrey or Watson. Or Dick. Well, whoever he is, he's on his way in to be tranquilized in an exam room, and I don't want to miss that, so I'm going to need my bottle back." Her horrified expression makes him grin boyishly. "Oh, come on. You're going to make me miss all the fun."

Exhausted, unwilling to fight him, and fully aware that he was doing this for her, she held the little vial out to him. He swept his pills off the table and back into their own bottle, and limped across the room to take the haloperidol. When he was close enough to hear her, she retracted her hand, and he missed by so little that their fingertips brushed, sending an electric shiver through her body.

She re-extended the bottle to him, staring him the eyes and managing, "Don't be too mean."


	12. Indefinite Hiatus

It has been lit'rally years since I've written anything for this story, or had any indication of interest (either from myself or the community at large), so I'm probably just going to leave it unfinished.

If I ever get struck with the sudden unrelenting urge to continue, I do solemnly promise, dear reader, that you will be the first to know.

If you are interested in taking over, adopting, assimilating, transforming, incorporating, referencing, or in any other way breathing life back into this story, simply drop me a PM, and we will work out an arrangement that suits us both.

Until then,


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